Curled in the tootsies this morn
winter, about to be born
frosty views of the window
deceiving me with blue sky
mother nature should not lie
but here I am freezing cold
blanket hostage I will hold.
Curled in the tootsies this morn
winter, about to be born
frosty views of the window
deceiving me with blue sky
mother nature should not lie
but here I am freezing cold
blanket hostage I will hold.
7 o clock shadows
thawing from the icy wind
winter is coming.
Written for Heeding Haiku With HA: Summer Kigo by MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie… Summer is indeed burning brightly over the northern hemisphere and I am so much looking forward to joining them next month for a couple of weeks. However, south of the equator, at the bottom of the world Winter is making herself very well known. So here is my tanka from:
The OtherSide
On the other side
billowing clouds block the sun
wind chimes dance fiercely
shaded from Summers beauty
we’ll find our way back again.
This fog is symbolic of discontent
Hurt and pain burns inside this weary world
each of us clouded by our judgements
it happened in a moment; emotions twirled.
Walking through shadows of a misty place
searching; scrolling for pieces of answers
disappearing without a scrap or trace
echoes of voices of social dancers
Soon the fog will lift from this tired city
And her flags will be raised back to full mast
Even in this moment the world seems shitty
tomorrow will pull it into the past.
We’ve been here before; Winter comes and goes
We’ll be here again – that everyone knows.
autumn sun rays glow
orange and yellow trees reach
an hour till home
Inspired/Written for Pooky’s Poem Daily Prompt: A Haiku from your window
pit pat pit pat pit
white sparkles fall from grey clouds
winter is coming
Whilst upon my weekend web travels I came across this artist: Victoria Frances – and was so taken with this piece I couldn’t help but write about it. If you want to see more of Victoria’s work please see here: http://www.victoriafrances.es/en/
Painted smiles and comical tears
lie beneath a gold plated mask
so many faces; so many years
Who I am? It’s only natural to ask.
I am the forgotten extra
a dark, morose, Venetian clown
just waiting for my exit, so
Death can rescue me from this crown.
For my master sits on the bloody throne
a cheater of time and of death.
I am a mere mortal instrument
to entertain until my last breath.
He found me by the Grand Canal
a weary flower weeping
took me for his possession
another toy for his keeping.
Winter breathes inside these walls
compelled to the dreary and dark
bound by magic into the night
cursed by an invisible mark.
At sunset, the music will start
and echo through the dusky halls
I am captive in his shadows
imprisoned inside the dark stone walls.
Careful steps where the puddles meet
a little lady wages war
Smiles of empathy cross the street
Her umbrella falls to the floor
It’s all about the shades of grey;
paint an urban watercolour.
it’s just four seasons in one day
a game we play in Melbournia.
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